


The Price of Love

by Reign_of_Glory



Series: Forgiveness [2]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff, Discussion of sexual assault, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Heavy Angst, I promise it'll be fixed later, Jane is sweet tho, The Whole Elizabeth Situation, and stuff, mama bear Anne, sorta - Freeform, wheeee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reign_of_Glory/pseuds/Reign_of_Glory
Summary: Everyone has guilt.Catherine Parr thinks she has more guilt than the rest of the Queens combined.
Relationships: Anna of Cleves & Katherine Howard, Catherine Parr & Catherine of Aragon, Jane Seymour & Catherine Parr, Katherine Howard & Anne Boleyn
Series: Forgiveness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897090
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	The Price of Love

_Well, if that’s love…_

Cathy, without a doubt, understood the others. She sat back, taking herself out of arguments and discussions for fear of talking about herself, and she observed. She was able to see Jane trying to overcome her fears, Anna hiding away at first, Anne trying to keep her temper at bay, Catalina coming to terms with the fact that she _didn’t_ know everything in this century…

And Katherine.

Oh, she understood Katherine the most, she thought, because she _empathised_ with the teenager. Having loved multiple men, she _knew_ how Katherine felt. Of course, _she_ should have known what love was, after having been married four times.

But she still wasn’t quite sure of it, and it nagged at her sometimes, like when Kit would talk with her some evenings.

“Cathy,” said the girl, swinging her legs as she jotted down a note from her History class - Cathy wondered why she had to take such a class when she _clearly_ knew more about history than some of her teachers. “Did they _love_ me _?”_

Cathy sighed, gazing at Kit’s bulletin board. She smiled when she saw pictures of her and Katherine running with Anna, pictures of Lina and Jane attempting to bake, and pictures of Anne and Anna solving a jigsaw. The pictures had been hung up with care, and fairy lights decorated the board. The love radiating from it was heartwarming.

“I…” Cathy’s voice trailed off. “I’m not sure, Kit.” She grimaced, shifting in her seat. “There’s no way to know. Perhaps, in another life, you would have been certain. But people aren’t open books,” she said, thinking partially of the other queens, “and you can’t find things they don’t want you to, at least not easily. You have to look deeper.” She smiled at Kit, but it was a wary smile, one she wasn’t sure was convincing. “Sometimes, you don’t want to look deeper, for fear something might go wrong.”

“So that’s a no?” Kit asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s a maybe,” grumbled Cathy. “I…” She grimaced. “I don’t know, Katherine. I really don’t know. It’s not something I can answer truthfully because I wasn’t there.”

Katherine sighed in response, giving Cathy a small smile. “Thanks, I guess, for being honest,” she mumbled, sounding dejected. “I’m just confused.”

“I know,” said Cathy, although her mind was echoing something entirely different. _Me, too, Kit. Me, too._

~*~

Although Cathy understood the others quite well, she was also pretty sure of where they stood with their understanding of her. She felt Catalina or perhaps Anne knew her best, followed closely by Kit. Jane and Anna were who she hadn’t talked with much, and she was nervous about taking with them. She didn’t know everything about them, and she didn’t want to seem as if she felt like she knew everything about them. Nevertheless, she relented one day when Jane asked her to talk, and she smiled.

“Yes?”

Jane smiled warmly, grabbing Cathy’s hand and pulling her down the stairs and around the corner - into Jane’s room, somewhere she hadn’t been yet. Really, Cathy was sure the only person who had been in Jane’s room before was Catalina. It was an unspoken law to not enter Jane’s room, and it felt as if she were breaking the law when she stepped through the door.

The walls were plain, much like her first perception of Jane, but as she gazed around the room she noticed blankets hung on rods, homemade curtains, and beautifully painted shelves. The shelves had likely been done by Catalina, but Cathy was certain Jane had made the blankets and curtains herself. “This… It looks nice,” she offered, and she groaned internally at how weird her voice sounded. She sounded, to herself, as if she were scared. 

_She_ wouldn’t have been afraid of Jane. No, that was more of Anne and Anna, the two who would sometimes refuse to eat anything Jane cooked.

Cathy wasn’t afraid of _Jane._ She was afraid of herself, in a sense, and what she would say.

Never had talking been more difficult than it was now, she thought with a grimace.

“You saw Edward become King.”

She hadn’t been expecting that, at least not so soon. Neither Anne nor Catalina had asked about their daughters just yet; they were still in what seemed to be a sense of mourning. “Yes,” Cathy said softly, “I did.” She smiled gently, gazing at Jane. “He was a sweet kid. He was only nine when he became King, but… He was ready, in a way. They’d all known it was coming. Edward… He prepared himself.”

Jane hummed softly, staring up at her. “I always knew he’d grow up to great things - and not just because he was male.” She crossed her legs, shifting in her seat. “Thank you for being there for him,” she said, “it’s something I’ve been meaning to say for a while.”

Cathy nodded slowly, giving her thanks nonverbally, and she hoped with all her heart her smile wasn’t tight. She wrapped an arm around Jane and stood, whispering a choked, _“It was all I could do,”_ before she fled.

~*~

Dreams were _supposed_ to be fun. They were supposed to be just that, your dreams, but you could live in them. They weren’t supposed to wake you until it was sunrise, and even then, you were meant to wake with a smile and perhaps singing birds flying around you.

Had Cathy written that, she would have laughed at the irony. 

She refused to sleep in favour of writing or playing games, or she would watch movies with Anne late into the night. The realm of dreams was an awful one for both of them, full of regrets for Cathy (she wasn’t sure why Anne hated it, but she could guess).

  
However, when she did sleep, she didn’t wake for a long time. Her brain must have thought it inadequate to torture her with lack of sleep, so it decided to plague her with all of her regrets.

She avoided Anne for the next two days, leading to confusion from the second queen as to why her closest friend would be ignoring her.

_‘It’s not you,’_ Cathy wanted to say, _‘it’s me.’_

She knew she was selfish, though, and she wouldn’t bring herself to explain why.

No, some secrets were best kept, even if they hurt the bearer ever-so much.

~*~

Catherine spent her nights reading on her phone, forgoing any contact with the others in favour of finding herself lost in a story. There was something about how a well-written piece could take you away from your faults and just let you _relax,_ and it made Cathy smile to herself as she read. 

Every once in a while, she found she could identify with a character or the specific style of words, and it filled her with euphoria. 

Euphoria, she thought, was far better than the regret that plagued her when she so much at looked at any of the others, so she stayed in her room. She _had_ been a writer, after all. Perhaps it was time she began living up to her epithet. 

Cathy opened her laptop one night, clicking on a Word Document and typing out a few words. It didn’t feel right. There was something about how she had to stare down at the keys under her fingers, how she had to use her index finger to type a single letter… It was far easier to use a quill or a pen. There was a backspace key, yes, but Cathy would occasionally press it for too long and the cycle would repeat once again. 

After deleting all of her hard work by accident, Cathy took to keeping a candle at her desk, lighting it and writing in a notebook of sorts when she felt the urge to write at three in the morning. 

She pondered writing an apology for her sins, to both the Lord and to the others, but she thought better of it, choosing to pray to the Lord and to let the others think what they might when the time arose. It would be best for them to choose their own opinions, she thought, no matter how the guilt of her actions crushed her.

~*~

Crush her it did. The seventh of September came around, and it was a day filled with grief and guilt for Cathy. She knew some of the others, especially Anne, would also be full of grief - but she was certain none of them felt guilt as great as hers.

They all had their own way of grieving; Jane listened to stories, for example. Cathy liked reading what she could and mixing what she found with what she knew from her own mind. With Elizabeth, however, she didn’t quite want to listen to her own mind as she remembered the girl. 

She pulled up an article after sitting out with the others for a few hours. It had been too much, to hear them all asking if she remembered anything they didn’t, and she’d had to leave. She’d thrown her book down, standing abruptly and running up the stairs as quickly as she could, ignoring the calls of _“Cathy,”_ and _“Wait,”_ that echoed behind her.

The article itself seemed fine. It opened up with a small introduction about the Virgin Queen, nothing too much, and then the author began to write about Elizabeth’s life.

There, Cathy sat in horror, too transfixed to turn away. It was one of those things so horrible you couldn’t look away from it, almost akin to a thriller film, and Cathy felt her jaw drop as she realised that, oh my goodness, the entire world knew.

Embarrassment and shame flooded her, and her cheeks warmed as hot tears filled her eyes. She slammed the lid of her laptop shut, nearly falling out of her chair in her rush to stand. It fell over, despite her efforts, and she tumbled out of the chair, falling to her knees before scrambling to her feet and jumping onto her bed.

She sobbed for a few minutes, awful, wheezing sobs that shouldn’t have been made by anyone. These were sobs she gave of grief, of regret, of shame, and she buried her face into the duvet, grimacing as she felt it stick to her damp face. She cried, letting her guilt out in a different way, expressing regret she’d not had the courage to voice.

She’d been brave, yes, but she had never been willing to talk about her own feelings. Cathy had always played an act, be it in her past life, this one, or the show, and she was sick of it.

A quick rap at the door made her snap her head up, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to dry the rivulets of tears that found their ways down her cheeks. “What do you _want?”_ she growled, squeezing her eyes tightly shut again before blinking the tears out of them to see a figure standing in the doorway, obviously concerned.

“Cathy,” said the woman, taking a step forward, and _no,_ that was _not_ who Cathy wanted to see! She needed Catalina or maybe Jane; she didn’t want Kit or Anne-

“Cathy,” said Anne again, kneeling beside her, “Cathy, are you okay?”

Cathy glared pointedly at the second queen, who was just being far too kind for the situation at hand. She shook her head angrily, suddenly filled with fury as she stared at Anne. “Do I _look_ all right?” she snapped, gesturing vaguely to her dishevelled appearance.

Anne was silent for a moment, taken aback by her words before she steeled her gaze. “Right. Do you want to talk about it?”

In response, Cathy wrinkled her nose, staring in utter horror at Anne. “With _you?”_

“I-” Anne hesitated, placing a hand on Cathy’s shoulder, and that was enough to make the sixth Queen snap.

“I don’t want _you_ to touch me!” she shouted, taking pride in how Anne backed away hurriedly, her eyes wide. “I don’t want _you_ to talk to me! _You’re_ the reason I’m so upset, are you stupid?” She scrambled off the bed, advancing towards Anne, trying to get her _out_ . “I don’t need you here! I don’t _want_ you here!”

Anne turned quickly, almost too quickly, but Cathy could see her eyes glistening before she stormed out angrily, but not before yelling back a response. Cathy hadn’t yet heard Anne yell, at least not at her, and it only fuelled her with more rage. 

_“Have you ever thought that we don’t want_ you!?”

The second Queen’s angry words echoed around the house, and Cathy heard a door - presumably Anne’s - slam shut. The slam reverberated throughout the hallway, and Cathy collapsed against her bed once again, not caring about the door, which was wide open. 

Anne’s words had hit right where they hurt most, which was probably the intention. No one could want someone who’d done the things Cathy had, and she cried herself to sleep that night, knowing she’d hurt all over when she awoke the next morning.

~*~

She welcomed Kit into her arms the next day. Kit was always the easiest to talk to, and sometimes, Kit didn’t want to talk at all. Kit was easy to be with, and Cathy cherished it.

“The Breakfast Club, right?” Cathy asked, her voice low as she pulled out her laptop. “That was what you wanted to watch?”

Kit giggled into her shoulder, and she leant against Cathy while she kept her gaze on the device. “Yeah,” she said, “that’s it.”

Cathy slipped her fingers underneath the lid, slowly prying it open with her fingernails. The screen lit up, and she handed it to Katherine, leaning back. “You’ve got the disc,” she said. “You should go ahead and insert it.”

The fifth Queen grunted, fiddling with the trackpad and clicking something before she raised an eyebrow. “Cathy?” she asked, and the tone in her voice was enough to make a wave of anxiety push Cathy down.

“Yes?”

“Cathy, is this… Is this really true?”

Cathy grimaced. She nearly facepalmed before she nodded slightly, biting her lip to keep herself from talking. “I- Yes, Kit. It is.”

Katherine shoved the laptop back her way, a sickened expression darkening her features as she pouted. “Cathy, I…” She shook her head, and she leapt up from the bed, clearly unable to even be in the room. “I don’t think I can look at you,” she said, “and I only read a sentence of that.”

She ducked out of the doorway, and Cathy was left with her half-open laptop, which she couldn’t even bear to look at.

For a moment, Cathy leant back, thinking of how she’d loved him.

She shoved those thoughts out of her head, though, as one sentence replaced them:

_It came at much too high a cost._

~*~

It was almost as if they were too embarrassed to even be around Cathy, as if they couldn’t even look at her. It was obvious Kit had mentioned what she’d read to the others, and she saw betrayal in Jane’s eyes when she looked at her - because Jane was the only one who stole glances at her, the only one who cared to make sure she hadn’t died of exhaustion or guilt just yet.

She understood the disappointment in Catalina’s eyes whenever someone brought up Elizabeth or Cathy - of course Catalina would have put the most trust in her goddaughter’s abilities, and for this to have happened? It wasn’t something she could just brush off.

Anna had never been easy to read, but now, it was as if she was a book full of faded ink. Every reaction was dulled, and she hardly showed any emotion. Cathy hated seeing Anna like this. Anna was supposed to be cheerful, happy, hopeful. She wasn’t, though, and that alone let Cathy know this was worse than she’d thought.

Katherine avoided Cathy entirely, going out of her way to make sure their paths didn’t cross. It hurt almost like a serrated knife to the heart, but Cathy felt that deep down, she deserved it. She couldn’t even talk about it, because Kit’s avoidance was justified. This had happened to her repeatedly in her past; she had a right to be more than angry with Cathy.

Anne tried, oh, she tried not to cry. Cathy could see her warring with herself, trying to keep her walls up until she was safely locked behind closed doors, but she knew even the best of the best couldn’t keep up a facade forever. Anne ended up waking before the others, and Cathy followed her into the kitchen to get a coffee, but she turned tail when she heard a muffled sob. 

Seeing her family hurt like this was painful enough. Knowing it was because of her, however, made Cathy want to curl into a ball and never awaken again.

~*~

She spent more time in her room, but now, she couldn’t bear to open her laptop. She merely lay on her bed, sighing heavily every once in a while or crying. She was worried someone might enter her room and tell her she didn’t have the right to cry over something _she_ did, so she locked her door, not even opening it whenever Jane knocked and mentioned she had food. It was better to avoid the others, she thought, than to show her pain, pain that hardly matched up to theirs. 

The worry that flooded her mind was worse than the sadness, in a sense. There was a hole inside her that the worry was filling, and she was fine with that. It gave her something to think about, something to _do_ ; it was a sealant to fix the broken pieces of her soul.

Even when she exited her room, she didn’t pretend not to notice when the others avoided her. It wasn’t a subtle avoiding, either; Catalina would walk up to her, about to ask if she was all right (she could see the worry in Lina’s eyes) but then she would turn away at the last minute, guilt and horror and shame and all those awful emotions flooding her gaze as she spun around, horrified.

She’d lost her family. She missed her movie nights with Anne, her book talks with Kit. She longed to go on a walk with Anna or help Jane cook - although admittedly, her cooking skills were not up to par. She found she missed Catalina’s soft assurance the most, though; it was something she found she could hardly live without.

Now, Catalina’s near-dismissal of her scared her, and as she watched her godmother leave, she felt like crying.

  
She felt someone’s gaze burning into her spine, but she didn’t care. Whoever it was had seen her at her worst; this was nothing. Cathy hissed a small, pitiful, _“Go away,”_ underneath her breath, and she heard a noise behind her. She kept walking, though, unable to muster up enough courage to spin around and confront whoever was watching her.

She put a foot on the stairs, spinning around when she heard a mumble from behind her. No one stood there, but the mat had moved, as if someone had kicked it out from underneath them. 

It didn’t matter, though, she told herself, and she began climbing the stairs quickly, as if she had a purpose.

As if she had a purpose, because she knew she absolutely didn’t.

~*~

When she finally mustered up the courage to eat lunch with the others, she forced herself to gaze at each one of her family. Kit met her gaze immediately, noticing her despair, and she grimaced. The betrayal in Katherine’s gaze was terrifyingly _real_ , and she averted her gaze immediately, _hmph_ -ing slightly.

Anna, despite all her guarding, stared at Cathy in utter disappointment. She brought her toast to her mouth, chewed, and swallowed, all while not taking her gaze off of the sixth queen. She seemed almost surprised to see Cathy outside of her room, and Cathy turned her expression steely. She took a sip of her coffee, setting down the cup with a clink before she shifted her gaze to stare at Jane.

Jane waved in a manner that was almost pitiful. “Glad to see you,” she said, but it was half-hearted. She offered a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve been worried.”

Cathy could hear the difference between _We’ve been worried_ and _I’ve been worried_ , but she smiled softly back at Jane. _“Thanks,”_ she mouthed, her throat too heavy to speak. Cathy didn’t quite know what weighed it down, but she coughed, her eyes locking with Catalina’s.

Lina was stirring her coffee, and she nodded in acknowledgement, seemingly scared to say anything. It hurt to have even her godmother ignoring her, but she understood why Catalina might not want to talk to her. Everything had been so sudden… If Cathy had been able to _tell_ them, if she had been _brave_ enough… If she hadn’t done it in the first place...

Soon, the disappointment evident in Lina’s gaze became too much, and Cathy tore her gaze away, sighing. She felt a stare burning into her forehead, and she lifted her head to stare at Anne. The second queen’s eyes were narrowed as she sipped her coffee. When she finally brought her cup down, nearly slamming it against the table, she smiled at Cathy. It was almost a warm smile, and Cathy, who was nervous, smiled awkwardly back at Anne. 

She drummed her fingers against her cup when Anne spoke, and she felt herself freeze into place. _Say you forgive me,_ she thought, _say I can explain. Say we can be friends and go back to debates and watching movies at three in the morning, and not have this awful rift between us._

“It’s very bold of you to show your face,” Anne said, and she was still smiling although her eyes were cold. Cathy’s skin began to crawl, but she maintained eye contact, attempting to keep her composure. “After what came to light, I was certain you’d run away. It makes sense, now, why you hid.” She stopped smiling, and her expression didn’t convey anything else. “I nearly let myself trust you. I hope none of us make that mistake again.” She stood, pushing in her chair - and neglecting to finish her coffee, Cathy noticed, and she thought she heard a small sniffle as Anne spun around to leave.

_“Wait,”_ she croaked, but it was too late. 

Anne had already left, and now all eyes were on her.

“I…” Cathy’s voice trailed off, and she fixed her gaze on the little bit of coffee left in her cup. “I’m…”

Jane placed a hand on Cathy’s, and Cathy looked up to see warm grey eyes crinkles slightly with a smile. “It’s okay,” said Jane, “I understand.”

“You don’t, though,” Cathy whispered, taking comfort in the warmth of Jane’s hand. “You didn’t… You didn’t do something so awful you’re not willing to defend yourself because everything said about you is the truth. You haven’t lost your best friend because of something _awful_ that you did in the past, something you regret so much you can’t find words!” Her speaking grew frantic, and her leg bounced as she tried hopelessly to think of words she could say. “See? Even Anne could find words to insult me! I can’t find words to _apologise.”_

Jane stared at her, and Catalina and Katherine began to stand. “You aren’t wrong,” said Jane, “but sometimes, you don’t need to apologise.” Catalina, Katherine, and Anna walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jane and Cathy alone. “You need to change,” said Jane, “and I’m willing to help you show that you’re able to.”

Cathy glanced away nervously. “But do I _want_ to change?” she asked, scooting her chair back and rising. “Do I really want to?”

Jane set her jaw, inhaling sharply. “It’s up to you,” she said, “but if you want everything back to normal… You should.” She shifted in her seat, setting down her fork as she began to stand. “Although, I think an apology would be good. Know that you’re not likely to be forgiven right away.”

Then, the blonde left, and Cathy was left alone.

For once, loneliness didn’t seem quite so comforting, after all.

~*~

The self-loathing began to come in earnest every time she saw one of the cousins. The betrayal in Katherine’s eyes wasn’t quite reflected in Anne’s, but Cathy could read the pure hatred all the same. _That was_ my _daughter,_ Anne seemed to be thinking, _and I would kill you right here and now if it were legal._

Cathy didn’t think she’d blame her, and she tried to cater to the second queen’s wishes the best she could in a pitiful act of apology. It wasn’t at all what was needed, and Anne went so far as to sneer at her when she knocked on her door, having brought a muffin.

“I’m not hungry,” Anne said sharply, nearly whacking Cathy in the face with the door. “Especially not for something _you_ brought. Go bring it to Jane, since she’s been all buddy-buddy with you.” The hatred in her voice was strong, and Cathy realised that she took it all as a betrayal. Cathy’s talking with Jane with a betrayal of her friend, and she had hurt _Elizabeth._

As her eyes filled with tears, she spun around and left, hearing Anne slam the door shut behind her.

Clearly, muffins were not enough.

~*~

“Besides,” said Jane, “no offence, but you suck at cooking… And anything utilising a kitchen. If I were her, I wouldn’t accept your muffins either.” Jane leant back on Cathy’s bed, and Cathy felt a surge of gratefulness burst inside of her. Despite making awful decisions, despite losing her godmother’s trust and her closest friend, she still had Jane. Jane truly had a heart of stone, Cathy thought with a smile.

“You have a point,” Cathy said, “and… I really do regret everything. Like, what happened was awful, and I… Everyone’s justified in avoiding me, really. Everyone’s justified in slamming doors in my face. I would go so far to say they’d be justified in kicking me out, though I’m grateful it hasn’t come to that yet.”  
  


Jane gave Cathy an awkward side-eye, and she shrugged from where she lay. “Anne’s tried.”

Cathy’s breath stalled for a moment, and she sighed. “I mean, it’s understandable. Especially coming from her.” She fiddled with her pillowcase. “I’m surprised Kit isn’t angry.”

“Well…” Jane hummed, seeming to search for an answer. “She is, I think.” Jane bit her lip in thought. “I’m not quite sure. She definitely shows it in a different way than we do. She just… Can’t talk to you, you know? Where Anne or even I could talk to you despite our anger, Katherine… Can’t, really. She’s scared, more than she is angry.”

Another wave of guilt hit Cathy, and she groaned. “Why are you still talking to me, then?” she asked. “Hardly anyone else can stand me in the same room as them.” She scooted away from Jane almost involuntarily. “So why do you bother?”

“I sort of… well…”

“Yes?”

“Well… I…” Jane’s voice trailed off, and she sighed. “I know what it feels like to be an outcast, I suppose. I want to be here for you, if you’re willing to change.” She offered a half hearted smile. “Believe it or not, I’m not as bad as they make me out to be.” She didn’t specify who _they_ was, but Cathy could guess.

“I never saw you as a bad person,” Cathy said softly. “We all have our faults.” Her tone took a sadder feel, and Jane pouted at her.

“But we all have our merits, too.”

~*~

Cathy spent the next week with a feeling of hope bursting in her chest. Nothing was the same as it had been before; the cousins wouldn’t talk to her and Anna didn’t seem ready to, either, but what hurt the most was Catalina. Her godmother seemed too nervous to be around her, and she would sigh and look away whenever Cathy entered the room.

Today, Cathy opted to attempt baking once again. This time, she attempted brownies, and she stared at the cookbook like it was written in a foreign language. She remembered how to measure things, but she still marvelled at how the ingredients made one perfect dish. Well, in her case, it wasn’t so perfect. She was quite sure that brownie batter was supposed to have a thicker consistency, and her arm was already sore from mixing.

She kept her gaze on the cookbook as she carefully beat her eggs into the batter, taking extra care to set the oven to 200 degrees. The recipe only told her to put it at 176, but she figured if she raised the temperature, it would bake faster. 

It didn’t take her long at all to mix the rest of the batter together, and for once, she had pride in her minimal kitchen skills. Cathy poured the mixture into the pan, and then she slipped it in the oven, narrowly avoiding a burn on her shoulder.

“How long are you planning to bake that?”

Cathy spun around, barely missing the counter, and she smiled weakly up at Catalina. “Er- Twenty-five minutes?” she said, shrugging as she recalled what the recipe book had said. “Yeah. Twenty-five minutes.”

“Want to walk with me?” Catalina asked, offering a small smile. This was an offering of peace, Cathy realised, and after two weeks of loneliness, Cathy took it.

“Absolutely,” she said, and she set her timer for twenty-five minutes.

~*~

Cathy and Catalina returned a bit after the alarm went off - Cathy had figured two extra minutes wouldn't hurt the brownies - and a weight had been taken off of each of them. Catalina seemed to smile less hesitantly, and Cathy had explained her thoughts the best she could.

Really, it had been nice to get out of the house. Especially now, Cathy thought, since everyone else was screaming.

“Jane! No! Don’t touch that with your bare hand!” It was Anne, running frantically around the kitchen. “Here, take- _Kit, no, put that down.”_

Jane jerked her hand away from the oven, and Anne hurriedly thrusted an oven mitt at her. _“Here,”_ she said exasperatedly, running to pull Kit away from the kettle. “Not yet-”

“We’re home?” Catalina said, and Cathy saw Anna sipping water from a glass out of the corner of her eye. “What on earth-”

“Something’s burnt,” Anne tried to explain, whacking Jane away as she took the oven mitt back and attempted to grab the pan herself. “I swear, whichever of you it was-”

Catalina raised her hands in innocence, and Anne’s murderous stare met Cathy’s bewildered gaze. “Look,” Cathy began, “it’s not like I _knew-_ ”

_“This,”_ Anne said, gesturing wildly to the steaming mess in the kitchen but ignoring the screaming Katherine, “is hardly why I’m upset. You know why I’m cross. Really, though, why would you of all people mess with a recipe? I thought it said 176?”

Catalina raised an eyebrow at Cathy, and Cathy ducked her head sheepishly. “Yeah, it did,” she said, “but I wanted it to bake faster.”

Cathy swallowed when Anne seemed to fight back a facepalm, and she ended up smiling wearily. “It _did_ bake faster, right?” she asked weakly.

Anne pinched the bridge of her nose inhaling sharply, and Catalina laughed. “I don’t think so, _querida,_ ” Catalina said, chuckling. 

There was still something off about Catalina, but Cathy ignored it, knowing it was understandable. Anne spun around after a clang sounded from the kitchen, and the three of them took off running. The adrenaline of the moment allowed Cathy to momentarily forget the apologies that were owed, and she dashed to the kitchen to see a scuffed up metal pan on the ground and Katherine jumping up and down in pain.

“She was burnt,” Jane attempted to explain, grabbing the oven mitt off of Anne’s hand and using it to pick up the steaming pan. “She tried to pick up the pan to wash it and she burnt her hand. Can one of you help her?”

_“Mon dieu-”_ Anne grunted, rolling her eyes fondly as she pulled Katherine to the sink.

Jane stared at Cathy, and then she began to laugh. “I didn’t think you were _this_ awful at cooking,” she said, “you’re worse than Catalina!”

At that, Catalina scoffed, eyeing the brownies. “Trust me, I’m far better than this. Did they catch on fire?”

Katherine nodded from where they stood at the sink, and Anne giggled. “Hush,” she said, “it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

Anna strode in, ignoring Cathy as she placed a hand on Kit’s shoulder. “You all right, _katze?”_

Kit grimaced when Anne ran cold water over her hand, and she shook her head. Anna sighed. “I didn’t think so,” she said, “we can watch a film for you later if you’d like.”

The girl’s face immediately lit up, and as happy as the moment of _family_ was, Cathy couldn’t help but feel subdued.

This moment of family wasn’t meant for her.

~*~

The guilt was still there, and every time she saw Anne making Katherine’s bed or fixing tea for Jane, she felt the bandage ripped off of the wound. It was _fresh_ , she realised, and she wanted to stab her laptop for the pain it had caused her.

She knew it was her fault. It was just easier to pretend. 

She stopped by Jane’s room once, but the door was locked. It was usually closed, but no one in the house ever locked their doors. It was too much of a risk; what if one of the others needed them?

Nevertheless, Jane’s door was locked, and she could hear voices.

“Look, it’s not a jab against you. We should just get along, really.” Jane. Sweet, naive Jane. “I’m just… It’s really understandable, you haven’t seen the _guilt_ she feels-”

“Oh my God, are you an idiot?” Anne’s harsh tone was enough to make Cathy take a step away. “I’m hardly blind; I can see it clear as day! It’s not so easily _forgivable_ as it is understandable, but I guess you wouldn’t know. After all, you still think _you’re_ worthy of forgiveness for all of _your_ sins. You aren’t, but who am _I_ , of all people, to judge?”

Cathy didn’t want to stay by the door any longer, but she found that her feet were rooted to the floor.

“Very humble of you,” Jane spat, “but you should know that none of this is about _you_ . It’s never been all about _you._ You’re just too self-centred to realise!”

_“I’m_ the self-centred one?” Anne scoffed, and Cathy flinched from where she stood outside the locked door. 

“You are,” said Jane bitterly, “all I meant to do was resolve this, but you’re too angry to _let me.”_

“I have good reasoning,” Anne muttered, and Cathy leapt out of the way when the doorknob began to move. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a cousin to look after.”

“She’s not a child, you know,” Jane said patronisingly, and Cathy could feel the tension radiating from the room.

“Neither is Cathy,” Anne hissed, “so stop treating her like she’s Edward. She’s not, and she never will be. She’s not fucking innocent.”

Cathy spun around and raced halfway up the stairs when she heard the door begin to creak open, and she sighed when she leant against the bathroom door. She hadn’t been meant to hear that.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she watched Anne storm up the stairs, barely hissing a, _“Sorry,”_ as she rushed by. Cathy grimaced.

She wouldn’t get past this, would she?

~*~

Cathy accepted the others’ reactions now. It made sense, after all, for them to not trust her. Jane still spoke to her, and Catalina was beginning to warm up a little. She would have to explain herself at some point, but she didn’t think any of them were ready for that yet, except for Jane or Catalina. If she talked to Anne, she would probably be murdered. If she spoke to Anna, Anna might tell her off calmly and she’d have to find a room that wasn’t next to Anna’s. Kit? She really didn’t want to talk to Kit.

She could stand being in the same room with the others, though, now that they knew. They thought what they might, and while Cathy hated to see them hurting, she understood that it was her fault and she needed to own up to her mistakes. Perhaps she would write an apology letter at some point. She wasn’t quite sure yet. 

Cathy did stop attempting to bake, though. After so many failed attempts, she elected to _not_ try and set the house on fire. Certainly, the others would at least give her credit for _that._

Cathy spoke with Jane, listening when her friend mentioned that _she_ felt guilt. Cathy thought they all did, in a sense, but she allowed Jane to voice her regrets.

“What if my death was retribution?” Jane asked one day, “What if I deserved it?”

Cathy sighed. “That’s like saying Kit or Anne deserved to be executed. In some ways, maybe, in others, absolutely fucking not. We all have our faults, Jane, as I’ve already told you. But as you mentioned to me, we all have our merits, too.”

Jane hummed in response, sipping from her glass. “That doesn’t make me undeserving of what happened. I have blood on my hands, Cathy. You don’t know what it feels like…”

“I might,” Cathy said, “but I might not. Still, I do know that _no one_ , especially not you, _deserves_ to die. Well, maybe some of the men in Katherine’s life, but… That’s beside the point. You weren’t deserving of death.”

“What would you know?” Jane asked with a sigh, “it’s not as if you fared any better.”

Cathy shrugged. “I don’t,” she said. “But I do know you did more good than bad.”

“If that’s what you think,” Jane said, and she left the kitchen.

Cathy couldn’t help but feel as if she hadn’t done much to help at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to scream at me @ my tumblr: [here!](https://theleastrelevantkatherine.tumblr.com)


End file.
